Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ~2 Cor. 1:3-4
Often we face seasons filled with hardship, chaos, pain, and even affliction. In the last few years, Troy and I have faced a lot of unknowns – God has walked us through some scary seasons filled with new babies, cancer diagnoses, a new job and city, children with serious medical illnesses, parents with cancer, and the loss of loved ones. We have wept tears of pain, joy, and relief. We have felt alone in a new city and experienced new friends feed us, care for our other children, encourage and pray for us. We have had seasons so weary of bad news that we have cried out to God wondering why. Why us? Why now?
This has been a week of threshing. Not because of some great spiritual dilemma; no, this is the threshing that can only come from the stomach bug. It is one thing that can completely wreck me – 10 people who can get sick, violently ill, unpredictably, anywhere, on anything. Ugh, it’s one of the worst! And it has come to our home this week. Our 2 year old was the first (probably patient zero) and of course by caring for him, I fell next. My big kids have been amazing! So helpful, kind, willing to support one another – School was done, meals prepared, rooms cleaned, really amazing. But still I lay in the bed unable to move or breathe deeply, fearing the pukes and mildly wanting to die. I wonder why me? Why now? Couldn’t I have just skipped this? God, if I were last to get this, all of this would be a lot easier given the laundry, food, and cleaning issues mounting.
And then it hits another preschooler and immediately I jump into action, weakly staggering down the hall to get cleaning supplies and shooing healthy teens back in order to hopefully protect them from actually getting this dreaded thing. As I comfort the upset, fearful little one with words that reassure, I quickly get her bathed, redressed, tucked into a new bed, and quarantined beside me and the baby in the sick bay. I lay back down, fearful of who will fall next. The one thought that begins to crystallize is that maybe it is fortunate I wasn’t the last hold out, that instead I was 2nd man down. Why? Because now I am free to comfort, nurture, and care for all my little ones without residual fear of catching it.
Typically fear mounts during these onslaughts and begins to whisper at me every time another child falls prey to this kind of virus. I’m not always the most nurturing if you’re over the age of 10 (mainly because I guess you’ve hit the age of accountability with getting the pukes in the toilet) so you may not get all the loving care you were used to prior to that birthday, especially if you are later in the game to get sick. My tank seems to run out because now the contagious factor has so mounted that I know it’s just a matter of time for me, and I want to limit all contact!
And while I know there is no one who would welcome the stomach virus just to be able to identify with another, God has been highlighting this truth to me in this week. My ability to comfort another is linked to the comfort I have received from Him. We comfort because we have been brought through adversity, not because we have just heard about the hardship or difficulty. No, we comfort because God has faithfully walked us through, and we can point to Him for the ones caught in the struggle. We become His ambassadors, His hands and feet to offer comfort, rest, help, and truth to the ones wracked by hardship that feels overwhelming and never-ending.
So I wonder, what do I know of this comfort? I love what Spurgeon said about the beginning of this verse – by blessing God, we “destroy distress by bringing God upon the scene.” How many times do I stew in my distress whether it be little like a virus or seemingly insurmountable like cancer, job loss, family stress, or death? Do I spend time first in my whining and wondering, succumbing to all the what ifs and fears of what may come? or do I rise and bless God? Comfort blossoms out of the truth of who God is. He is sovereign, constant, unchanging, and faithful. His sovereignty declares that He hasn’t lost control of one single thing that seems to be spiraling out of control. His constancy promises His presence right with me in the struggle. His unchanging nature means that comfort will be given in an ongoing, meaningful way because He is the Father of all mercies. And He is faithful to supply all the comfort needed. He is the Source of all I need in my time of need.
His comfort is unlike any other. Comfort comes from the Greek word parakaleo meaning to call for, exhort, encourage, strengthen and console. It is the steady truth of the Scripture coming alive on the page as I seek Him. His words actively slicing through my layers of fear, panic, numbness, or pain. It is the faithful allegiance, service, and prayers of the Tychicus, Titus, and Epaphrus friends in life – the warriors who will stand in the gap and bring encouragement on the dark days. It is the miraculous moment when something shifts that seemed immovable, and you instantly know the hand of God was involved. But most importantly, His comfort comes through the Comforter, the great Paraclete. The Holy Spirit indwelling you and me as believers. Ephesians 1:13-14 declares this truth that when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit. Jesus declared that the best thing for us would be the Comforter or Helper who would come. He guides us into truth, causes us to abound in hope, grants us unity, regenerates, and renews us.
But if I resist or resent my struggle, how can I comfort another? If I redefine it so that I don’t have to walk through the struggle or if I refuse the difficult road God calls me to, there is no ground for comforting another. When I run to quick fixes or hide in holes of denial, I declare that He is not my comforter. And I am empty when faced with another who desperately needs to hear the truth of Who He is. The spread of the Gospel is rapid and fierce when we, having walked through the fires, can testify to not being burned. Hope is offered to the world when we can point to the waters that seemed to overwhelm us and then share the peace of God which restrained the despair so that we did not drown. The world is desperate for comfort. The body of believers is desperate for comfort. Let us walk as comforters because we know and have been comforted by Him.